


Moonshine on Streets of Gold

by Akiko_Natsuko



Series: Mc76 [6]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memories, Nightmares, Past Relationship(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scars, Slow Burn, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 06:43:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16550879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/Akiko_Natsuko
Summary: Jack Morrison was trying to eke out an existence in the city, hiding from family and his own memories, when a chance encounter with an old flame leads him down a different path.





	Moonshine on Streets of Gold

_“Get down! Get do...!” The warning shout was cut off mid-word as too many of them were, and Jack twisted around to see. He’d hit the ground at the first shout, gun clasped against his front and his eyes were wild as he turned just in time to see James being flung into the air and consumed by a blast of flame and heat. There was a shout of denial on his lips, but he didn’t move, already knowing that it was too late. It didn’t stop the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, his heart still not hardened against the constant losses, but there was no time to focus on that as the bombardment continued. All along the ragged line, hard-won after days of fighting, he could hear the screams and shouts of wounded and dying men, and the muffled, echoing drum of bombs tearing the earth apart. And all that he could do was huddle against the dirt, fingers curled tightly around his gun and pray._

_Pray that he survived._

_Pray that this would end._

_Pray that he would go home._

_He was mumbling under his breath, the words lost even to his own ears as prayer and plea merged into one where there was a brief lull in the bombardment, and a moment of silence in the madness. Slowly, his ears ringing and eyes stinging from the combination of tears and smoke filling the air around them he lifted his head, catching a fleeting glimpse of others beginning to do the same a split second before the world around him disappeared in a cloud of dust and dirt, even as sickening fire ripped through his side…_

    Jack Morrison started awake, jerking upright with a strangled gasp, one hand flying to his side, half-expecting to find blood and shrapnel beneath searching fingers. His other reached blindly for a weapon that was no longer there, and it took him several minutes of grasping breaths and frantic searching to realise that he was a world away from that terrible night. Even with that realisation, it was another minute or two before he blinked, slowly pulling his hand away from his side and letting it fall into his lap, staring at it with dazed eyes. What little light was trickling in from outside, allowed him to see that the skin was clean of blood, the only evidence that it had been more than a dream lying in the shiny burn scar stretching up his wrist and around the base of his thumb.

    One scar among many that attested to the fact that he had survived…barely, and as he sat there, huddled beneath the covers of the narrow bed, staring at his hand, he couldn’t help but wonder if that was a good thing. It wasn’t the first time his thoughts had taken that path. Although it was most prevalent late at night when the memories that he thought tooth and nail to keep at bay during the day would break through his guard, haunting and hounding him, until he could no longer remember the last time he had managed to sleep through the night.

He had fought.

He had survived.

    In the eyes of his family, he was a hero, the medal that he could scarcely remember receiving now hung in a place of honour over the fireplace in the Morrison family home, a conversation piece at all gatherings. What they didn’t or couldn’t see was that he was broken… the child they had sent to war was gone, and he wasn’t sure who had been left behind. It was why he was here, eking out an existence in a tiny two-roomed apartment above a bakery, earning a pittance at the local market on the days that he could bring himself to venture outside and brave the overwhelming noise and sensation of the world. When he could be at home, taking up the reins of the family farm as was expected of him.

    His parents didn’t understand, and perhaps that was a good thing. He would rather take the scolding when he did venture home or call, and the pleading letters shoved through his door every few weeks than see their proud expressions and contentment crumble as they realised that he wasn’t the son they thought he was.

   The sob when it came took him by surprise, and he hastily stuffed a fist in his mouth to stifle the sound, just as he had on the nights in the trenches when everything had become too much, and he had teetered on the precipice of falling apart completely. There was no one here to hear him now, the colour of the sky outside telling him it was too early for anyone to have arrived downstairs just yet, and yet he still tried to hold them back. However, with the dream still too close to the surface, the latest letter entreating him to come home lay visible in the corner of his eye and in the silence of his rooms, he was struck by how alone he was, and the dam burst.

****

    Jesse McCree glanced around the shop as he waited in line, his gaze lingering for a moment on the empty shelves behind the counter that not long before would have housed a somewhat pitiful range of alcohol, but now sported several flyers by the local Temperance groups instead. He grimaced and shook his head, knowing that he shouldn’t complain too much, as their efforts were proving most profitable for those willing to skirt the law and take the risk. He allowed himself a moment before he schooled his expression into a blank mask not wanting to draw any unwelcome attention to himself when they had a shipment ready to leave in the next day or so, and instead returned to scanning the few people in the store and lingering outside.

   Things had been quiet for the last few days which made him nervous, especially when he had dropped by Olivia’s the other day and she had quietly warned him that Akande had far from forgotten about what Gabriel had done during their last encounter. It hadn’t been the news that Jesse had been hoping for, and he had a bad feeling that the lack of action meant that the Ogundimu had to be planning something big, and Jesse wasn’t quite as confident as Gabriel that they would be able to ride out whatever damage was coming their way. He was just eyeing a young man who seemed to be working along the far aisle a little too slowly when the bell jangled behind him, marking someone entering and Jesse flashed a glance over his shoulder, wary of being caught off guard.

    However, he wasn’t prepared for the sight of a familiar figure stepping through the door, and his mouth dropped open, his unlit cigar falling out and bouncing against his foot. However, his attention was riveted on the man who had just entered. The features had changed, the carefree grin that he had fallen for was nowhere to be seen, but there was no mistaking the crow’s nest of blond hair with the tuft that would never lay flat or the bright blue eyes that darted nervously around the room, seeing everything and nothing all at once. Then there were the scars, one more faded than the other marring Jack’s face and his eyes narrowed, wondering what could have happened, fingers itching to reach out and touch.

    Slowly, his shock gave way to a grin as he bent, scooping up his cigar before he stepped forward, abandoning his place in line so that he could reach out and grab the man’s arm in a friendly clap.

“Jack Morrison!” He felt the flinch that greeted his touch, and there was no missing the fear that had flickered across Jack’s face, his grin faltering, unable to remember a time that the blond had ever shown fear around him…or around anything now that he thought about it. They’d both been a little wild back then, but there had been a recklessness to Jack that had scared him at the time, and the change made him step back, suddenly uncertain, and he didn’t fight when Jack wrenched himself free of his grip and took a step back too.

     It took a moment, almost as though Jack was fighting to ground himself in the present, the blue eyes darting around before finally seeming to focus on him. Even then, it took longer than Jesse liked for recognition to enter his expression and he struggled to keep a frown off his face. It had been a while since he’d seen Jack, nearly four years now that he thought about it, but how the hell could he have changed so much in that time? Sure, Jesse had changed during that time, and for a moment he faltered, wondering what Jack would make of the path that he’d taken, before shrugging. He was what he was, and as far as he could tell he hadn’t changed that much or at least not as much Jack had.

“It’s been a while, McCree,” Jack’s voice was still the same at least, maybe a little rougher than it had been, but still the Midwestern drawl that at one point had been one of Jesse’s greatest weakness. However, there was one significant difference, and this time he couldn’t hide his frown, ignoring the voice in the back of his mind that sounded remarkably like Gabriel telling him off for being an open book.

“McCree?” Jesse lifted an eyebrow, not sure what to make of the formality. Sure, they had gone their separate ways, but their parting had been amicable if a little bittersweet at least on his side and he took a step forward. “You’ve not been gone that long Jack.” That seemed to draw a brief smile from the other man, and for a moment Jesse caught a glimpse of the man he’d know.

“Looking at you, I could almost believe that.” There was a wistfulness behind the words that ruined any hopes of it being flirtatious, but Jesse couldn’t stop himself from grinning and tipping his hat, something that Jack had always rolled his eyes at in the past.

“Well, thank you…”

He should never have let his guard down.

*

    Later he wouldn’t be able to say which of them moved first, as the calm chatter of the shop and their own conversation was torn apart by gunfire between one word and the next.

   Jesse lunged forward, intending to use his weight to force Jack to the ground, even as he reached for his own gun. However, Jack was no longer there, having darted to the side, avoiding the bullets that had torn through the spot where he’d been stood and barrelling into a woman who had frozen in terror, pushing her to the relative safety of the ground and covering her with his own body. Jesse quickly shifted gears, taking cover behind some shelves just as there was a pained grunt from behind him and the sound of glass breaking above his head, as fresh shots sprayed through the shop.

    Rage threatened to bubble over, as he heard frightened voices around him and he was distantly aware of Jack’s voice as the other man tried to calm the woman he was protecting, and he clung to that sound as he checked his gun, forcing the anger back for the time being. It wouldn’t help them here, but later, when this was all over, there would be hell to pay for this mess. Jesse would do many things, and he’d done more than a few that he knew would stain his soul to the day he died, but he drew the line at drawing civilians into the line of fire unnecessarily. _And Jack -_  he didn’t know how he felt about seeing the other man, or the changes, but he knew that he wanted Jack as far away from this side of his world as possible, the time apart hadn’t changed that.

   Taking a deep breath and pushing aside anything apart from the current situation, he ducked out from behind his shelter and took aim, quickly spying the man who had caught his attention earlier as he tried to duck behind the counter. The glint of metal in his hand, confirming the suspicions that Jesse hadn’t had chance to pursue and thanking Ana for taking the time to mould his raw luck and occasional talent into something polished, he fired, not bothering to check for the kill before he swung around as another man appeared in the doorway, weapon aimed at him. It wasn’t a face that he recognised, but he could see Akande’s hand in this whole situation, and he didn’t hesitate, firing even as he flung himself to the side. A line of fire across his shoulder telling him that he hadn’t quite made it, even as his opponent collapsed with a perplexed expression on his face.

“Jesse!” Jack had seen what had happened, and with seemingly no thought to the danger he was in had sprung back to his feet, darting across the shop in the open, blue eyes fixed on Jesse with a terrifying, single-minded purpose. It was an expression that Jesse recognised, but the familiarity was reassuring because that expression had usually been followed by Jack leading them headlong into a mess. There was another burst of gunfire and Jesse watched the floor between him and Jack being torn up, splinters and dust flung into the air. Jack stumbled, and for a heart-stopping moment Jesse was sure that he was going to fall, but then Jack steadied and changed tack, heading directly for the front of the shop and however many shooters were still left outside. Rushing unarmed at the very people who were trying to kill them…

_What the hell is he playing at?_

    Jesse’s shoulder was beginning to burn, and he could feel blood soaking into his shirt, but there was no time to deal with it as he couldn’t just sit by and let the idiot get himself killed. Trying to tell himself that he would do the same for any of the unfortunate souls that had ended up caught up in this mess, but knowing there was an extra edge to his fear that came from the fact that this was Jack. Gritting his teeth and trying not to think about the lecture he would be in for from Angela later he surged to his feet, firing a shot as soon as he spotted one of the shooters. It wasn’t enough to down him, but it forced him back a step, giving Jesse a valuable second to check on for Jack, expecting to find him neck-deep in trouble but…

    Jack had reached the door, and barely seeming to break stride he reached down and tore the gun from the limp fingers of the second assailant Jesse had downed, fingers moving with practised ease as he checked it. Jesse had spent a lifetime around firearms and had benefited from the tutelage of two of the most talented shooters he had ever seen, and he could tell that it was experience, not raw talent guiding Jack’s fingers, and once again he found himself wondering what Jack had been up to for the past few years.

   Movement out of the corner of his eye had Jesse opening his mouth to shout a warning, but it proved unnecessary as Jack moved with a predatory grace that Jesse had never seen from him, twisting out of the path of the shots, and returning fire without hesitation. Jesse knew that he was staring, mouth open as Jack seemed to transform in front of his eyes, going from a ghost of the man he had known years ago, to a cold, calm killer that would put many of the people he ran with now to shame. _What the hell is this?_ Jack had always been reckless, so the fact that he was stood out front, making himself a target wasn’t unexpected, but he had never been violent. Hell, Jesse had teased him for being too tender-hearted at times, even as he had cherished that part of his friend – it had been a welcome balm as he’d found himself caught up more and more on the wrong side of the law, seeing the worst that people had to throw at him. _So what changed?_.

    More movement had him shaking off his shock, a quick shot taking down the man who had been trying to work around to Jack’s back and by the time he turned back, Jack had downed his opponent and was in the process of lowering his gun. The coldness was gone now, and Jack seemed to shrink in front of his eyes, and the hands that had been so steady before were trembling now although he didn’t release his hold on the gun. If anything Jesse would have said that he was clinging to it, seeming to draw security from the feel of it in his hands.

“Jack!” Jesse called, lowering his own weapon, not wanting to be mistaken for a threat as Jack turned to look at him with a dazed expression. His wound was starting to burn now, but he pushed through the pain as he moved forwards one step at a time, eyes still scanning the area, not ready to believe that it was over just yet. They’d gone up against Akande before, and his plans always had layers beneath layers, to the point where it made Jesse dizzy, and he doubted that this was going to be any different, and it made him uneasy to see Jack out in the open. “Jack, come back inside,” he ordered. At least in here, they had a modicum of protection, although the front windows were a shattered mess, and he was vaguely aware of the other people fleeing now that there was a lull in the fighting, but he paid them no mind.  

      Jack nodded and turned, moving like a man in a dream, but thankfully moving in the right direction. However, he had barely reached the door, the shattered remnants of the windows crunching underfoot when there was the squeal of wheels, and Jesse only had time to register the presence of cars drawing to a halt behind Jack before a hail of bullets tore through the air. Jack went down with a sharp cry. Jesse couldn’t get to him as he was forced to dive for cover, wincing as the shelves behind were shredded, and he was forced to fling a hand up to protect his face from the debris. He cursed Akande and Gabriel in the same breath as he ducked, desperately trying to get a read on Jack’s condition as the other man hadn’t moved. “JACK?!”

     For a moment there was no response, and his heart was in his mouth, fingers clumsy as he reloaded his gun. _Come on Jack don’t do this to me._ Mentally he was counting, knowing that there would be a lull in firing as they were forced to reload, tensing as he prepared to break cover and get to Jack, and probably get himself killed in the process. However, quiet had barely begun to fall when Jack finally moved, lifting himself up onto his elbows. The dazed look from seconds ago was gone, the coldness back, but softened by the lines of pain, his cheek a bloody mess from landing on the glass and Jesse could glimpse crimson soaking the front of Jack’s threadbare shirt. However, Jack didn’t seem fazed by it, beyond a quick glance and a grimace and then he was moving, shuffling across the ground towards Jesse.

     Hearing voices and footsteps outside the shop, Jesse fired blindly, not caring about targets right now but trying to provide cover as Jack crawled ever closer. It seemed to be enough, making their assailants hesitate just enough for Jack to come within reach of Jesse’s cover, and he stopped in favour of lunging forward to pull Jack into cover, grimacing as he felt the dampness under his fingers and Jack’s groaned. “Shit, how badly are you hit?” Jack shook his head, and slowly pushed himself until he was sprawled next to Jesse, low against the ground, his chest rising and falling raggedly, but beyond that one groan, he was quiet.

    Quiet and focused, Jesse realised, realising that like him Jack was listening for movement outside and waiting for the next wave of attack. His curiosity was burning bright in the back of his mind, but that was a conversation for later, if they didn’t get killed in here and if Gabriel didn’t tear him a new one for getting caught off guard…neither of which were looking very likely for now. Dragging his attention away from Jack he checked his ammunition, mind racing as he tried to work out how they were going to get out of this. He was determined to make sure that Jack at least was able to escape and he jerked when fingers brushed his arm, drawing his attention, and he lifted his attention to find Jack staring at him with blazing eyes.

“What the hell is going on here, Jesse?”

_Oh, so now he goes back to first name basis…._

 


End file.
